


Coffee and TV

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, First Time, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Road Trip, Zane!Sylar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-26
Updated: 2009-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zane's TV isn't really broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and TV

The knock at the door isn't so much a knock as a thud. When Mohinder opens it he finds Zane awkwardly hopping on one leg, the other drawn back at the knee, midway to giving the door a second kick as he juggles two cups of coffee in one hand and a box of doughnuts in the other.

"Hi," he says, with a sheepish grin.

"Hi," Mohinder replies, grinning back as he reaches out to rescue the doughnuts before they topple to the floor. "Come in."

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Zane asks even as he wriggles out of his coat and toes off his shoes, passing the coffee cups between his hands in a delicate balancing act that Mohinder watches, breath held, waiting for one of the cups to pitch forward and splash them both.

But Zane must have better coordination than his gangly limbs suggest because he's handing Mohinder his drink and settling at the edge of the bed, relaxing back on his elbows before Mohinder has a chance to say, "No, not disturbing me at all. It's nice to have the company."

They smile at one another again, a little more shyly with Mohinder's words that mean more than what he's said: it's an invitation if Zane is willing to take it. There's a silence, only slightly awkward as they hold each others' gaze for that fraction too long that turns a simple glance into a _moment_ until they both look away, a little flushed and a little breathless. Neither wants to be the first to speak, so they duck their heads and sip their coffee.

"Urgh," they groan simultaneously, noses crinkling as they grimace in disgust.

"Jinx!" Zane says playfully, chuckling as Mohinder swallows quickly and glances around the room for something to cleanse his palate of the far too sweet and milky coffee.

"Wait. Here," Zane says and switches their cups. Mohinder takes an experimental sip and sighs, content, when he finds this cup black and strong and bitter.

He shakes his head when Zane holds up a handful of creamers he's had stashed in his front pocket and watches in slack-jawed horror as, one by one, Zane carefully peels the little tubs open and splashes two, three, _four_ more into coffee that's already looking far more white than brown.

" So, er… to what do I owe the pleasure?" Mohinder's only half-aware of the words he's saying, transfixed as Zane takes a long swig of what's little more than sweetened cream and follows it up with a generous bite of powdered doughnut. Zane's lips are ringed with a faint dust of sugar and Mohinder licks his own in sympathy, struck with the urge to lean forward and suck the powder from Zane's fingers and lap at his lips and stubble until he's clean.

"Boredom?" Zane shrugs. He runs his tongue over his lips and pulls the bottom one between his teeth, dragging two perfect front teeth over the blanching skin and collecting all the sugar. His mouth curls up at the corners as Mohinder clears his throat, catching himself staring, starting to feel flustered as the room suddenly feels too hot and close. Zane laughs softly and Mohinder thinks Zane knows exactly the effect he's having.

"My TV's broken," he says but Mohinder knows he's lying. Zane's all charming, disarming smile, exuding an effortless sexiness that makes Mohinder think he's spent a fair bit of time staring in the mirror to perfect the wide-eyed look of innocence he wears so well.

"I thought I'd come and watch yours." Zane wriggles further up the mattress, squirming sinuously until his jeans ride low and his t-shirt rucks up and he's sitting propped against the headboard like he has every right to be on Mohinder's bed with a strip of pale, soft skin showing at his belly. "Unless you mind?"

"Not at all." Mohinder hands him the remote and lets their fingers touch for just a moment as Zane takes it from his hand. Mohinder has never minded being seduced.

Mohinder settles himself with his laptop in the chair beside the bed, socked feet stretched out ahead of him, resting on the comforter. Zane flicks through the six or so channels the motel has, quickly first so they go by in a blur and then again more slowly. Mohinder fiddles with the mouse and pretends he isn't studying Zane over the top of the computer screen, watching his long fingers curled around the remote and fixating on the delicate ridge of his hip where it rises from his jeans. His eyes focus on the dark hair winding below Zane's waistband and he bites his cheek, swallowing dryly at the thought of what it will be like to drag open Zane's fly and follow that trail with lips and tongue. Zane arches up, lifting his hips from the mattress on the pretence of cracking his back to make his jeans slide lower and his shirt hitch higher. Around the lip of his coffee cup, Zane's mouth curls when Mohinder's breathing quickens.

Mohinder thinks that Zane must be glorious on stage, not quite in the spotlight, tucked away behind a drum-kit but still drawing all eyes to him. He wonders if maybe one day he'll get to see Zane like that, high on the music and the deafening crowds, sweat damp clothes sticking to him under the glare of the too-bright lights while people all around scream Zane's name. He thinks that he'd like nothing more than to see Zane rile them up, basking in their adulation. Zane likes attention; that much Mohinder knows for sure. He's seen the way Zane's eyes shine when Mohinder stares at him in unabashed amazement, watching as Zane melts things just to hear Mohinder coo. Mohinder can only imagine what he's like surrounded by groupies and toadies falling over themselves to praise him. Mohinder wonders how often Zane caves and lets them stroke more than just his ego.

At the thought, Mohinder shifts where he sits, squeezing his thighs together and rising up, oh so slightly, to press his crotch indulgently against the warm underside of the laptop. When he settles back down with a sigh, he notices that Zane is watching him from the corner of his eye. Mohinder thinks that as much as Zane might like to lure men to him, he's probably also the type that loses interest in those who crack too easily. Mohinder knows because he's like that too, finding the back and forth of the chase and the heady, nerve-jangling tingle of anticipation almost as thrilling as when skin finally meets skin. So, Mohinder puts aside the computer and crawls lazily onto the bed beside him.

The mattress is narrow and, side by side, there's but a fine boundary of too-thick, too-hot air between their bodies. Mohinder feigns an interest in the TV as Zane's eyes flick over him, darting from stubble to waist, hands and thighs and lips. Mohinder tilts his head to face him until their mouths are inches apart, Mohinder breathing in what Zane breathes out, sickly sweet and bitter all at once. Zane's eyebrow lilts up. Mohinder's tongue snakes out to wet his lips. They angle forward and Mohinder says, "I used to love this as a kid."

"What?"

Mohinder inclines his head at the TV screen, holding Zane's gaze for a moment longer before breaking into a wicked grin as Zane exhales the breath he's been holding. He glances at the TV and smiles, too, at the Looney Tunes cartoon that's playing. They settle back against the headboard, breathing more heavily now, chuckling softly and shaking their heads. This time, their shoulders are warm where they lean against each other.

"You know," Mohinder starts when the silence has dragged on long enough to tease. "I always felt bad for the coyote. The roadrunner is so cruel to him."

"He _is_ trying to eat him," Zane argues, laughing as an Acme anvil misses its mark and lands squarely on Wile E. Coyote's head.

"But it's not his fault," Mohinder presses. "He's a coyote! He has to eat something. It's only natural what he's doing."

"Eat or be eaten, huh?" he says, cocking his head as Mohinder nods. Zane fixes him with a curious stare until Mohinder glances away to sip his coffee, Zane's dark eyes suddenly too intense. Then, the paper cup is being taken from his hands and Zane is surging forward into Mohinder's personal space.

"Is your TV really broken, Zane?" Mohinder asks, half-teasing, half-stalling as predatory eyes rake over him. He's not sure whether to fight Zane to control this or bare his neck and let himself be taken.

"No," Zane laughs, without a hint of shame, voice rough and low. Soft, full lips move against Mohinder's. He groans and his mouth parts, Zane's tongue delving between his lips, Mohinder's decision made for him as they kiss.

They shuffle down the bed and Mohinder rolls willingly onto his back, Zane stretching out over him as Mohinder spreads his legs to the heavy weight of Zane's thigh. They're kissing deeply, Mohinder's fingers buried in Zane's thick hair, pulling him close by the back of his neck. Zane's mouth works against his, catching his bottom lip between both of his, massaging softly and gently scraping with his teeth until Mohinder moans into his mouth and feels the rumble of Zane moaning in return.

Between his legs, Zane's hips are shifting. Through the layers of their jeans, Mohinder can feel Zane's thick erection rub against his groin. His own cock is hardening quickly, nipples pulling taut at the heat that pools in his gut and thighs. He's panting now as their kisses grow hungrier, less tongue and more teeth, until his skin feels achingly red raw from the scratch of Zane's stubble and they way he nips lightly at Mohinder's mouth.

One hand clutches in Mohinder's hair, tugging him back against the pillows to extend his neck while Zane forges a biting trail down his throat. The other worms under Mohinder's shirt making them gasp Zane's fingertips ghost across Mohinder's belly. He fingers the line of each of Mohinder's ribs and caresses the soft skin in the dips between, smiling when Mohinder giggles and squirms at being tickled. He gropes higher, carefully pinching a nipple and palming Mohinder's chest, lips kissing down into the swathe of skin exposed by Mohinder's open collar until Zane's mouth and hand are lavishing attention in tandem just below the hollow of his throat.

Mohinder tugs him closer, hips swivelling as much to grind his dick to Zane's thigh as it is to grind his thigh to Zane's dick. Then, Zane is drawing back, clutching at the collar of his tee to yank both shirts over his head at once and Mohinder fumbles with his own buttons, managing to undo most of them before Zane emerges, bare-chested and hair tousled to pop the last few free. He slides Mohinder's shirt from his shoulders with an unexpected reverence before tenderly kissing up Mohinder's torso as he slides his undershirt up ahead of him to lead the way.

They kiss again, more softly as Zane winds his fingers in Mohinder's curls and Mohinder strokes up and down Zane's arms, feeling the flex of his muscles, lightly defined from drumming. Zane's chest hair feels coarse against Mohinder's smoother skin, and his nipples are two hard points that stutter over Mohinder's own as Mohinder undulates beneath him. Mohinder grabs Zane's ass, fingers spreading wide and curving around the firm swell of his cheek. Zane's breath shudders and he curls his fingers under the waistband of Mohinder's jeans, his fingertips sneaking under the elastic of his briefs. Mohinder bites his lip as Zane's thumb traces teasing circles on the brass button at his fly.

From the TV, Porky Pig is a disturbingly loud interruption. "Th-th-th-that's all folks!"

They break apart laughing and panting, Zane sprawling on his back beside Mohinder. He runs his hand over his face as he groans, fumbling at his side for the remote to shut the TV off.

"Wow," he says, catching Mohinder's eye. "That was…"

"Yeah," Mohinder agrees, finding words have escaped him too. "Wow."

"So…" Zane breathes. He starts to roll onto his side, back towards Mohinder but Mohinder stops him, urging him to lie back with a light hand to his chest.

"So," Mohinder says against his lips. His fingers card through chest hair, caressing the length of Zane's body as they kiss. He traces over abs and hips and inner thighs before dragging his nails over the tenting front of Zane's jeans.

"Oh," Zane gasps as Mohinder palms him, squeezing gently to hear him draw in a hissing breath and feel his hips rock up into Mohinder's grip. He thumbs the button open and inches down the zip, drawing back to watch Zane's face as he slips his hand inside. He gropes Zane through the cotton of his underwear, hot, damp fabric sliding against his palm as the cool teeth of the zip catch on the back of Mohinder's wrist.

"Oh god, oh god," Zane mutters, making Mohinder smile as he curls his hand around Zane's still covered shaft. He strokes Zane slowly, more tease than pleasure, dropping feathery kisses to Zane's mouth as he grunts and groans in time to the slide of Mohinder's hand. And then, Zane's body tenses unexpectedly and his hand slaps down to cover Mohinder's, wrenching him away.

"Gimme a second," he moans, one dazed eye slitting open to answer Mohinder's questioning stare. He's a little flushed but shrugs it off, thumb tracing patterns over Mohinder's knuckles.

"You're too good," Zane whispers with a rueful smile and at that Mohinder smirks because he's barely touched Zane at all and there's something thrilling in knowing that _he_ alone has pushed Zane this far, Zane who's surely had countless groupies and hangers on, who could have anyone he wanted at all. Mohinder moves his hand to Zane's chest, laying it lightly over his heart to feel the strong beat as it matches his own pulse and kisses Zane softly at the corner of his mouth. "Been a while, huh?"

"Something like that," Zane says, with that same one shouldered shrug that makes Mohinder think he shouldn't delve too much deeper into what Zane's saying. But, there's something in Zane's voice, in the meaningful way he holds Mohinder's gaze as he speaks…

"Zane, are you…? I mean, you have… haven't you?"

Mohinder shakes his head as his words trail off. They're not teenagers anymore and it's been years since he's had the need to ask after his partner's virginity. At nearing thirty, surely Zane has done this before? Zane is sexy and seems to know it full well; it's incredible to think he's never been touched. And Mohinder thinks that he must have jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion. Now, Mohinder's the one who's flushing because it was a stupid question to ask, and he can only hope Zane hasn't taken offence.

But, Zane is rolling them over, pinning Mohinder beneath him once more. "There's a first time for everything," he mumbles in Mohinder's ear.

And Mohinder's grateful that Zane's kissing him quite so thoroughly so that he can't make the flabbergasted noise that's gurgling in his throat. He wants to press Zane as to what he means, first as in _first_ or just the first time with a man, or even, more likely, just the first time he's had to worry that he might cream his shorts?

"Relax, Mohinder," Zane says, as if he can read Mohinder's thoughts. "It's not a big deal."

Mohinder wants to say that no, it really _is_ a big deal and ask if Zane is being serious. He wants to know why him and why now and to double check if Zane is sure, if after waiting so long he really wants to do this for the first time in a dingy motel with grubby sheets and water stains on the ceiling. But Zane's hands flick open his jeans and eagerly tug them down, one hand curled around Mohinder's erection as he pulls it from Mohinder's briefs and all Mohinder's protests melt into a long, pleading groan.

"Yeah, that's it," Zane moans as he shuffles off the bed, dragging Mohinder's clothes from his legs as he goes. He pops Mohinder's socks from his feet and strips himself, thick, hard cock bobbing between his legs as he climbs back on the bed.

Mohinder sits against the headboard, legs spread and Zane kneels between them, pressing his forehead to Mohinder's, both watching as Mohinder reaches out to stroke him. The tip of Zane's cock is shimmering wet and he's pulsing hot. When Mohinder grasps him, Zane's dick twitches wildly, jumping in his hand until Mohinder fists him tightly, laughing softly at Zane's enthusiasm and pulling up, _up_ from root to crown. He circles his thumb around the dampness at Zane's tip, slicking pre-come back down Zane's length. Zane's thighs tremble and he's panting heavily against Mohinder's cheek. They trade quick, breathless kisses as Mohinder brushes that spot just below the head.

"Careful," Zane groans. Reluctantly, Zane's hips move back and he gently moves Mohinder's hand away once more.

"Zane…" Mohinder says as much for his own peace of mind as to reassure Zane. It doesn't seem right to do this and not acknowledge what Zane has told him because even if Zane is keen, groping hands driving Mohinder to distraction, Mohinder thinks that Zane deserves more than this, deserves something better than a man he barely knows and a mattress that squeaks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mohinder." Zane laughs, exasperated. "I'm sure. I never wanted to before and now I do, with you. Okay?"

Mohinder's answering, "Okay," is muffled under Zane's kisses.

"I'm gonna blow you," Zane says, and what can Mohinder say to that but "_Yes_"?

He kisses quickly down Mohinder's chest before settling his cheek against Mohinder's upper thigh and trailing one finger lightly along Mohinder's shaft. Then, thumb and forefinger circle around Mohinder's width and tighten, pulling up again and Mohinder watches Zane as he cocks his head and watches Mohinder's foreskin slide back and forth, gathering above the head on every up stroke and bunching below on every down stroke.

"Weird, huh?" Mohinder says, smiling, because Zane's cut and Mohinder's seen enough American pornography to know that uncircumcised cocks are something Zane's probably never seen before. But, Zane shakes his head, distracted. "I like it."

Zane rubs circles with his fingers, first one way and then the other, leaning in closer to study the way the loose skin moves with him, shifting with his touch. His breath curls hotly against Mohinder's base, and it's all Mohinder can do to fist the sheets and force himself to wait, to let Zane explore at his own pace instead of thrusting forward demandingly, urging him to press his lips where his fingers are. Zane tugs at Mohinder's foreskin lightly, eyes flicking to Mohinder's face as he gasps.

"S'good," Mohinder breathes. Zane grins and tugs again, a little more roughly now and Mohinder yelps.

"Gentle," he says, covering Zane's hand and guiding him to pull back his foreskin and expose the head.

Then, Zane's lips are there, soft and full and damp as they drop kisses to Mohinder's tip. His tongue flicks out experimentally, gliding along Mohinder's slit. Mohinder's been with enough inexperienced men before to think he knows what to expect: uncoordinated hands and fumbling mouth, teeth that come too close to grazing. But Zane, _oh god, Zane_, sucks his dick with natural talent. He's confident without being cocky, careful without being shy, excelling though he sticks to simple things: sucking hard and stroking fast, bobbing his head down far enough to make Mohinder gasp but not enough to choke.

"Zane," he groans and Zane groans too, rumbling around Mohinder's cock as he swipes his tongue from side to side at that same spot below the head that was nearly his own undoing. And now, it's not enough to simply clutch the sheets. His hands go to Zane's neck, stroking and caressing, nails scratching as he hovers just short of pushing Zane further forward into his lap. His hips lift but Zane pushes them back down and Mohinder squirms, writhing under the maddening feel of Zane's lips locked around him, cheeks hollowed as he slurps and grunts and swallows.

Then, it's too much altogether and Mohinder's fighting with himself whether to hold Zane there or warn him off, his kinder side winning out as he yanks Zane up by the back of the neck. Zane kisses him gruffly, forcing his head back against the pillows as one broad hand wraps around Mohinder's dick, twisting and pumping. With his hips released, Mohinder's free to buck as orgasm overtakes him. Mohinder comes in long, hard spurts, soiling his stomach and Zane's fist, crying out into Zane's kiss. Before Mohinder can catch his breath, Zane's grunting in his ear, sliding his cock through the hot, sticky mess as he rides against Mohinder's stomach. It only takes a thrust or two and Zane is coming too.

"Oh god," Zane groans, breathless, laughing as he flops onto his back and gathers Mohinder in his arms.

"Good?" Mohinder asks. He kisses up Zane's neck, mouthing along his jaw as Zane breathing slows. Their lips meet, soft and sated, and they smile together, noses touching. Zane's eyes are heavy and his body is slack. Mohinder brushes the hair back from his forehead and tenderly kisses his cheek.

"So good," Zane whispers. "Thank you."


End file.
